the plums do not bloom

simultaneously.  the one plum

blooms first; the plum to east

shows color before the plum

to the west which is yet

to blossom

the tree cut down

erased concentric

circles           later

two ears

a bird landed

on a line

inside the heart

made note

on my fifty-ninth birthday i sat down

and went to india

the sky was gray

the sea was gray

the shores were tributaries

a river cut through

the heart of the sea

a star flew across the ocean

past goa

its northern reaches possibilties

the tree limbs so blunt

but the arc open

like arms

two wheels to shore as spear

in circular movement into heron

that was the then this is the now bird

song  scarlet among the dendrites

against gray cloud matter sky

a hawk sat on a branch

that halfway bisected an equilateral triangle

formed by roof, sash and window frame

the sky was blue

and white

the arms became

the coast of india

a curve, an open

arc, inverted

The tree’s suggested a way

to throw up my arms

just lift them       let go

and wear the rather large jewel

on top of the head like a small hat

or an eye or a crown or another face

on top of the round

face inside a face made

entirely of limbs and segments

that light is perched there

just to or for day light

and the arms are swinging

snap upwards like towards

the sky – it could be these

trees have got it – the right i-

dea